


Diametrically Opposed Foes

by Flyting



Series: Interrogator!Ben/Hux [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ben is bad at dating, Companionable Snark, Flirting with the enemy, Gen, Hux is a snarky bastard, Jedi Ben Solo, M/M, vague fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyting/pseuds/Flyting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shorter, somewhat lighter follow-up to <i>Breaking Down Like Fractions.</i> Ben Solo is the Resistance's interrogator of last resort. General Hux is their prize captive. They do some bonding over snack foods.</p><p>
  <i>He is examining the almost-definitely-pudding, weighing it against his hunger. “What is this?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Dessert.” Ben pauses. “Probably.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diametrically Opposed Foes

“What is this?” General Hux asks when Ben sets the tray down on his stomach. He lifts his arm up off of his eyes to glance at it.  
  
“Me buying you dinner first,” Ben answers, settling into the only chair in the room. He turns it around so that he can lean his elbows on the chair back. Hux is stretched out on the narrow twin bed, one ankle hooked neatly over the other. He sits up on his elbows to investigate the meal Ben has brought. Piled up haphazardly in the middle of the tray there are two protein bars, a little plastic pod full of something gelatinous and brown that Ben is reasonably sure must be pudding, a foil-wrapped emergency ration kit, and a carton of blue milk.

Hux stares at him, level and expressionless.

“I can take it back if you don’t want it,” Ben says, feeling defensive. It’s mostly things he was able to grab quickly from the cafeteria without anyone noticing, but _still_. A little gratitude would be nice.

Hux sighs. Moving the tray to the bed, he sits up, folding his long legs together neatly until he is sitting cross-legged on the bed. He picks up the ration kit, turning it over in his hands.

“This is First Order issue,” he says.

“I thought it might make you feel more at home.”

That tactically blank, but somehow witheringly disdainful, stare returns.

“We picked up a whole crate of them on Axaca,” Ben continues. “We’ve been trying to get rid of them for ages.”

“Good luck. They’re terrible.” He tosses it to the foot of the bed.

“We’ve… discovered that, yeah. The packets say something in there is supposed to be soap but we haven’t figured out what yet. Do you guys really have to eat that shit?”

“ _I_ don’t,” Hux sniffs. He is examining the almost-definitely-pudding, weighing it against his hunger. “What is this?”  
  
“Dessert.” Ben pauses. “Probably.”  
  
“I assume you just found it lying somewhere and didn’t bother with any pesky research like _what it was_? Does the Resistance keep any sort of records at all?”  
  
“For important things,” Ben says, insulted. “Sorry some of us have better things to do with our resources than alphabetize the plates and cutlery.”  
  
Hux makes a disgusted ‘tch’ sound. In the end, he unwraps one of the protein bars and begins eating mechanically, staring at nothing.

After a moment, Ben leans forward, tipping the chair onto two legs, so that he can reach out and snag the dessert pod off of the tray. He pops the soft plastic top off and smells it. Hux ‘tchs’ again, but makes no move to stop him.

“Well?” he asks, eventually. Ben realizes he's talking about the dessert.

He considers. “It might be chocolate.”

When Ben shrugs and takes a bite the General rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. He finishes the first protein bar and starts on the second.

They eat in silence. It’s almost companionable.

“Are we doing this again, then?” Hux says eventually. His voice is low, deceptively calm, but there is a telltale thrumming of fear in the Force. He doesn’t look at Ben.

“Yes.” Ben considers apologizing. He is turning the phrasing of the words around in his head, trying to find an angle where they don’t seem patronizing, when Hux speaks.

“What do you want to know?” he asks slowly.

“Location and mission of the First Order flagship, the _Finalizer._ It’s disappeared from our radar. We need to know why.”  
  
Hux nods once, staring at the half-eaten protein bar in his hand as if he's suddenly lost his appetite.  
  
“I don’t suppose you want to just tell me?” Ben offers.

“No,” Hux snarls quickly, as if to make up for his earlier hesitance with a show of teeth. He meets Ben’s eyes steadily. “You did buy me dinner, after all.” It’s a weak attempt at a joke, and it shows.

"Shall we?" Ben has just enough decency in him not to acknowledge the other man's fear. A smirk tugs at his mouth as he stands, one hand straying casually to the blaster in the holster against his thigh, the barest implication of a threat. “I’m surprised, General. I never would have taken you for a cheap date."


End file.
